Annoying Antics
by Bailadora
Summary: House is being annoying.  Again.


"Where the hell is House?" Chase asked the room at large. He had his feet up on the table in front of him and was casually reclining in his chair. He, Cameron, and Foreman were waiting for the doctor to begin giving their individual diagnosis on a new patient.

Rain was steadily falling outside the hospital, running down the glass windows in streams. It cast the room, and its occupants, into a dismal mood.

"Probably couldn't get his moped started," Foreman said. The joke was lost on the other two.

Chase sighed and sipped from his coffee. Foreman threw a pair of x-rays back into the patient's file and plopped down beside Cameron, who was staring out into the rain. "We could start without him," she suggested.

Neither of the two men said anything, so Cameron stood, walked to the whiteboard, and uncapped a marker. She wrote down the patient's name at the top, his age underneath that, and then started on a list of symptoms. She spoke quietly as she wrote. "Neil Anderson, age twenty-five, admitted for–"

"House never does that," Foreman broke into her thoughts.

Cameron gritted her teeth and turned to him. "Well, House isn't here right now, is he." She returned to the board, but before she could write anything more, another male voice stopped her.

"Well, sure he is. And he says he wants to do things his way." House limped into the room. He hit Chase's legs off the table before setting his sopping bag and cane down on it.

"Where have you been?" Cameron asked, setting down the marker and returning to stand next to the table.

"Couldn't get my moped started," he said, looking directly at Foreman. He proceeded to unzip his bag and pull out a stack of printer paper, which somehow had managed not to get wet in the rain. He took a sheet of paper and began to fold it.

Cameron ignored his actions. "We have a new patient. He was admitted last night for–" She stopped when House threw the paper airplane he had been folding at Chase. It hit him on the shoulder.

"Damn, so close," House muttered.

Cameron paused to collect herself, not wanting to start the morning off by yelling. Or by being yelled at. "He was admitted last night for throwing up blood," she read from the patient's file.

She waited to hear what House had to say about this. He said nothing; instead, folded another plane, aimed, and sent it in Chase's direction. This time it hit him on the forehead.

"Closer," House said almost inaudibly.

Cameron put her hands on her hips. When she spoke again, she used a more forceful tone. "He hasn't coughed up any more blood, but he's having troubles breathing, and the CAT scan did show–" She looked up from the file, dreading what she would find.

She witnessed House arcing another airplane at Chase. Chase tried to catch this one, but missed. He was hit squarely on the nose.

"Score!" House yelled. Foreman was unsuccessfully trying to hold back his laughter while Chase was nearly shaking with rage.

"House, are you even listening to me?" Cameron asked

He stopped folding his next airplane to look up at her. "No."

"House, this man could be dying. We have to–"

"Why should I care if the man is dying?" House grabbed another sheet of paper and skillfully folded it into yet another plane. He tossed it at Chase, who was glaring daggers at him.

"Because you're a doctor!" Cameron had finally abandoned her search through the patient's file and looked up at her boss.

"Nah. It's the good doctors who care if their patients live. I'm not one of the good doctors." He shrugged. "I'd rather make paper airplanes." Having run out of paper, House hobbled across the room to pick one of the fallen planes up off the floor. When he threw it, it hit Chase on the back of the head. House grinned.

Cameron crossed her arms over her chest. "I can't believe you."

"No?" House feigned surprise. Seeing that all the planes he had thrown were on the opposite side of the room, he reached towards the patient's file. Cameron breathed a sigh of relief – until she realized what House was doing.

She smacked his arm away. "You can't make paper planes out of the patient's charts!" She grabbed the file away from him.

"Well now you're sounding like Cuddy."

Cameron and House both still had one hand on the file when something on it caught his eye. House tried to jerk it away. Cameron wouldn't let go. House jerked harder and the file came free. Cameron tried to snatch it back, but House raised it over his head where she couldn't reach.

When he was sure she wasn't going to try to steal the file back again, House lowered it so he could read it.

"Oh, this is bad. He could die," he said, giving Cameron a serious look. "Why didn't anybody tell me?"

A/N: So, how is this for my first House fanfic? Suggestions for future chapters would be appreciated!


End file.
